Secondhand Squib
by Lizzysobebear
Summary: An explanation for Argus Filch's longing to use violence on Hoqwarts students. Read and review! T for violence


Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her gang of publishers. Plot is mine and I guess that means the parental characters are mine too. Except they really aren't. So it's kind of a joint deal there. I am making absolutely no profit off this story and I do not intend to! =)

A/N: This was written rather quickly, so if anyone sees any mistakes I might have overlooked, feel free to point them out! :D Please review!

**Secondhand Squib**

The boy sat on his flimsy bed, a threadbare blanket beneath him. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his dingy brown hair fell messily in front of a pair of pale eyes. The room around him was dirty and secondhand, not a single thing bought new. A small window, covered by bars, let a little moonlight into the dim room from its place at the top of the wall, but the space was still shadowy and somber. Clothes were strewn across the once cream carpet, now scruffy and tan with eerie spots of red. A wardrobe shoved against the wall opposite the bed had only one drawer still pushed into its slot. The other two had been pulled out, and they lay on the floor, one broken into large wooden shards. Small slivers of timber littered the floor, and the boy's feet were pierced with splinters. The rest of him was much worse. Bruises covered his thin body and a large scar blemished his left arm.

A door slammed shut in another part of the house and the boy's knuckles turned white as he dug his dirt caked fingernails deeper into the skin of his upper arms. Small drops of blood trickled from the newly inflicted cuts as he whimpered. Curling up tighter as if to hide himself, fear and nausea overtook him. Obviously, whoever had entered the house was not someone he wanted to cross paths with.

Mr. Filch had come home, and he was not happy. After a difficult day at work, he was feeling angry and pugnacious. More so than usual, that is.

His wife, Mrs. Filch, cowered in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove as she attempted to cook her husband dinner, but he was never content with what she did. Entering the shabby room in a rage, he plunked himself into a chair at the foldable square table.

"Are you quite finished yet!?" he snapped bitterly, glaring at the back of her head. She remained silent as she continued preparing the meal, trying to appear unfazed by his question.

"Just use magic!" Mr. Filch sneered, "Or are you like your filthy _son_? A useless Squib who can't do anything right?" His voice dripped with disgust as he mentioned his child. The boy was someone he'd rather forget.

A sob escaped his wife as she turned to him, opening her mouth to defy him. Tears escaped her eyes, but her husband couldn't care less as he threw his chair back, stepping towards her. Mrs. Filch shut her mouth and tried to turn back to the food, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the oven. She put her hands back, trying to keep her balance, but she cried out as her right hand touched the hot frying pan. Her head slammed against the cupboard and she collapsed to the floor, holding her throbbing palm to her chest.

"Please…Please…" Mrs. Filch begged, crying in vain to the brutal man before her. Her once neat bun was loose and stray locks of hair hung in front of her brown, bloodshot eyes. Her face was red and blotchy, and wrinkles belonging to a much older woman were etched across it.

What had happened to the young man she had loved? Where was he now? Was this foul thing standing before her really all that was left? Once, long ago, they had been happy. Truly happy. But those days were gone forever, only alive in her dreams and memories. Mrs. Filch didn't know which was worse, her husband being violent or her husband hating her. The tears that spilled from her eyes were for both.

"Don't beg, you waste of space."

He slapped her across the face, creating a red welt on her cheek. Mrs. Filch's already aching head hit the cooker behind her. Gasping and weeping, she remained on the floor, not daring to look up into her assaulter's pale eyes. Pale just like his son's. She didn't look either of them in the eye because fear shot through her when her gaze landed on those chilling irises.

The boy listened from his bedroom, knowing where his father would be next.

Not surprisingly, the acidic man soon stormed down the narrow hallway to the battered door at the end of it. Heaving it open, he stepped inside, eyes smoldering. Light from the hallway streamed in, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

"You horrid Squib!" Mr. Filch shouted, advancing on the young boy, "You vile, nasty, cowardly Squib! You can't do anything right! _Anything!! _My son. No. Not _my_ son. _My_ son would never be such a filthy unwanted troublesome boy. You are not _my_ son."

The man picked up one of the dresser drawers and hurled it at the bed where the boy still lay curled up. It missed him, but split in half like the one on the floor. Growing even angrier, if that was possible, he started picking up anything he could find to hurl at the slumped figure. Books and pens flew past him, but a sharp shard of wood hit its mark, causing the boy to cry out and hold his leg. Blood was leaking furiously from the wound, staining the blanket he lay on.

"You're just like your mother," Mr. Filch whispered icily, but he smiled an odd smile at his son's pain, before thundering back down the hall and out the front door. The boy knew he'd be back the next night, worse after his next escapade to the bar.

Weeping now that his father was gone and unable to see the tears, Argus tried to stop the bleeding by wrapping the blanket around his leg. He lay in the dark of his room, sobbing quite violently at the thought of tomorrow and at the pain in his limb. Hours later, Argus Filch had finally cried himself to sleep, wondering how anyone could ever love a Squib such as him.

* * *

A/N: Yay! Okay, not really a "yay" moment, but I wanted to do something about Argus Filch's childhood, so here it is! :D Sadly, HP wiki doesn't show any of his family ties, so I just called them by their last names...Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! :D Oh, and I'm not sure if this should just be a oneshot or a full length story, so please voice your opinions about that!


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